Tell me when you're gonna let me in
by LadyDemolition
Summary: Kurt works in porn. Blaine is a waiter in a café where Kurt stays to escape from his unfulfilled life. The moment Blaine sees him he knows that there's something about him and he wants to know more about this miserable, young man but will Kurt let him?
1. Chapter 1

Kurt Hummel certainly wasn't proud of what his life had become. He never had what people called an easy life after all. It wasn't all bad of course. There'd always be shades of grey but these days they were mostly a really blackish, dark, windy grey if people had asked him. Nothing like when he was still in high school and that's saying something considering all the hate he had to deal with. All the bullying, all the mocking and people telling him how he was nothing but some stupid fag that would never make it and lately he started to kind of believe that they'd been right all along, no matter how painful their words had been and how deep the scars were they left in the end.

He had never wanted to end up with the job he had. The whole life he had, really. When in high school, he along with his best friend Rachel Barbra Berry had always had big city dreams. Dreams of being a performer, or a designer or anything glamorous really but when his busy life came to halt for a second and he actually was able to stop and think, it was the most ironic thing ever. His life was nothing like he had imagined it to be.  
>The young man remembered how when he was sixteen he couldn't even think the word 'sex' without having his cheeks burn red and tingling with embarrassment. He couldn't even enjoy looking at another naked body. It was awkward to him, not at all appealing but that changed when he met his first boyfriend.<br>Kurt had wanted to take it slow all along, see if things would work out and not only end up being a meaningless high school fling. The touch of their fingertips being as sexy as it gets but for the other boy it had never been enough. It wasn't like he forced the blue-eyed to do it, yet he definitely had pressured him. He had told him he wasn't normal, that it was weird how making out was enough for him. He had never really wanted more now that he thought about it. The soft slide of lips and the smooth glide of tongues against each other, another boy's taste in his mouth, was enough to satisfy Kurt. It wasn't like he didn't have a sex drive at all but he just never saw it as something that was needed. It was just something playing in the background, lingering but never actually breaking out until one night when he was being pushed into the mattress by a strong body, the slide of lips turning into slides of hips and the soft slick sensation of tongues joining was replaced by teeth clashing together. Hands were roaming over his chest when his clothes were pushed off urgently.  
>His ex hadn't been rough with him. He actually did take things slow but just not slow enough for Kurt. Of course his body reacted the way it was supposed to. Being a teenage boy after all Kurt grew hard under his touch, writhing desperately until it happened. Whether he would regret it or not.<p>

It wasn't something he was proud of either but enough to give him some self confidence he only knew to fake before. Kurt often acted like he was superior and strong, but yet he was scared, terrified of not being good enough and it tore him apart.

His dad, Burt, had a tire shop. He had always been working hard, harder than anyone Kurt ever met and he had always admired that kind of moral his father had. Despite his butch appearance, him not being exactly the most clever guy, he was also the one with the biggest heart. He had never given up on his son, especially not after his wife, Kurt's beautiful mother, had passed away. Burt Hummel had never given up hope but tried to be everything for Kurt. He was the one who comforted him when he came out, not able to keep it a secret anymore, a dark shadow that ate him up from the inside out and left him being his unhappy, closed up self. He had also been the one who told Kurt to not throw himself around when it came to sex. That he mattered and not only his body. He had held him when Kurt had broken down after his first boyfriend broke up with him. Burt had let his son cry in his arms, sniffling into his sleeve before falling asleep on his chest, rolled up and safe, protected from everything dark in the world.

Oh the irony.

After years of struggling Burt's shop had to be closed. He couldn't afford the rent. The work. He had a bad heart condition and he knew Kurt wouldn't want to keep it running though he would have. Kurt would've done anything for his dad. He would've given it all up. His dream of moving to New York. Getting into NYADA or at least into a decent school for design.  
>He had always loved fashion, loved the way it made him express himself. Screaming silently yet loud to the world that he was proud of being different. That his high pitched voice and soft features and fashion sense were part of him, making him who he was at the end of the day. It wasn't like he necessarily wanted to provoke. It started with him wearing whatever he wanted, really. A bowtie here, a pin there or some hat and it just grew once he started spending his pocket money on 'Vogue' magazines and oversized pullovers. No one ever understood but it was his way of trying to get the attention he couldn't get. And now that he was pretty much alone he had learned to just not care anymore.<p>

He was in New York.  
>It didn't matter anyways. He could just be himself without getting weird looks. Kurt was just another young, fashionable man with perfectly styled hair and groomed eyebrows, wearing Marc Jacobs and Gucci and other brands whose names <em>no one in hell <em>could pronounce right, according to Burt Hummel. But his son didn't care. He spent his money, his time on sewing and styling things, making sure it looked right and made him look slim.  
>The blue-eyed had always been self conscious over his 'pear hips' as his former cheerleading coach had called them but he learned to live with his body.<br>He had to, now that he was working the job he did.

Kurt had so much more to look after. His weight, his looks, the definition of his muscles.  
>It was rough and hard work and worth it? Not so much.<p>

Often he just wanted to quit but what was he supposed to do?  
>His father couldn't support him, hell, he couldn't even support himself. He had barely enough money to buy food every month and Kurt would send him money every now and then when it got too much.<p>

Sometimes when he found himself lying in bed, alone, just him and his thoughts and the steady ticking of his clock hanging on one of the walls that he called his home, he pictured how his life could've went. How he could be in love and free and have pear hips and eat cheesecake every now and then without worrying about how it wasn't low fat. How he could home into a warm home with a gorgeous, intelligent gentleman waiting for him with blankets and coffee and the new episode of 'Gossip Girl' ready to watch on their TV. How he could read outrageous articles from his fashion magazines to him with a silly voice, making him laugh and grin and kiss him, not because he had too but he sincerely wanted it just to show him what he meant to him. Because that's what Kurt Hummel had always wanted.  
>He had always wanted to <em>mean<em> something. Not even necessarily to anyone but he just didn't want to drown in the mess that was high school or better yet, his life.

Kurt had thought to have found this person the day he me Blaine but again, how was he supposed to tell this gorgeous young man, a stranger who was smiling so fondly at him, that he had sex with guys he didn't love? That he didn't even _want_ most of the time just so he could earn enough money to actually afford his one-room-apartment and support his sick dad?  
>So instead of returning the friendly toothy grin he just sat down on his regular table in the coffee shop he always went to, in the corner, where he could hide behind some fashion magazine and dream of better times. Better ways to earn money without feeling sore and used and dirty after it.<p>

He didn't like talking about how he even got into the business so he rather didn't. In fact only few people knew. Rachel did, not his dad. He could never find out, Kurt had decided. He wasn't sure if he could ever look his father in the eyes after admitting that. He had told him he got a paid internship in some fashion label which was wishful thinking of course. A fantasy that would probably never come true.

"Hey, what can I get you?"  
>A friendly, smooth, male voice woke him from his daydreaming and Kurt turned his head quickly, looking into wide, big golden orbs.<p>

_'Great...'_ He thought to himself. _'Pathetic Kurt. Absolutely pathetic.'_

"Hi, well I'd like a Grande Non-fat Mocha if that's possible." Kurt said, a little more grumpy than he intended. It had always been this way. He shut down as soon as someone he found attractive tried to talk to him and this guy was just a waiter. Not really a potential person to date considering that he didn't even know him and he couldn't even tell if he was gay.

"Of course it is." The stranger grinned widely, exposing his perfect, white, shiny teeth and his eyes sparkled in the fake light inside the shop.  
>Kurt shook his head lightly, barely noticeable before cursing himself internally.<br>_Who was he kidding?_

"Thanks." He replied coldly, focusing on his magazine again.

"Hey, why the face? Coffee's on me today... sorry if I'm too fast forward but... you come here every day and you always look so... well... forget about it. It's none of my business but I'll bring you your coffee, for free and leave you alone forever." The waiter rambled and wrote down Kurt's order, biting his lip, eyebrows furrowed as if he was regretting what he just said.

Kurt shook his head again more firmly this time.

"It's fine. Really. I'm sorry, I just... don't want to talk right now."  
><em>"Or ever."<em> He added in his mind.

"Right... I uhm... I'll be back with your order in a bit Sir." The hazel-eyed mumbled, turning away. "But if you ever want to actually talk. I'll say it like this... I'm here all day. People are rude and you're here all day as well and I never see you talking. Just thinking and... wow okay, I'm creepy. I suck at this I - I just wanted to say. If you want to talk. To a stranger... I'm not going anywhere." He smiled again and Kurt wanted to cry at how sweet it was. So sincere and god if only he knew.

He stared at the headline of his 'Vogue' absently, looking up quickly, meeting honey coloured eyes before flickering his own down again.

"I don't talk to strangers really..." He whispered, trying to shake the other man off but he wouldn't give up that quickly.

Blaine himself couldn't even explain why but somehow Kurt captivated him. The way he always crossed his legs when he sat, how he would flick through his magazines all day, studying everything that was written in there, analyzing every picture. Sometimes he'd sketch and Blaine would watch from the distance, wondering why this man had no one sitting there with him. It didn't seem fair to him. Kurt just had this interesting aura about him. He was gorgeous as well. Anyone who'd see him would think so. His skin was all pale and smooth, flawless, cheekbones prominent and his eyes a mix of every colour possible. He had noticed how they'd sparkle green sometimes, blue on other days but always with that special hint of gold.

Blaine shook himself out of his mind and let out a deep breath and shook his head with a faint smile.  
>"Alright then..." He said and Kurt looked up once again, hoping he'd leave him alone already considering how much of a jerk he had already been.<br>"I'm Blaine. No stranger. Just Blaine." Blaine said and gave Kurt another awkward smile before walking off, leaving Kurt sitting there with his mouth dropped lightly, eyes glistening and cheeks burning.  
>And then again. Who was he kidding. Maybe he was interested, maybe he wasn't.<br>Either way he was just another person to leave Kurt, hurt and alone, _craving_ for something he knew he could never have.


	2. Chapter 2

The days carried on slowly as ever. Kurt would drag himself out of bed, get ready and drive to the studio, emptiness spreading in his sore body and he wondered for how much longer he could do this. It wasn't like it wasn't fun or the people weren't nice. In fact, some of his closer friends worked with him as well. Yet he couldn't suppress the sinking feeling in his stomach every time he met another man he'd have a scene with.

He bit his lip and shook his head softly when he left again. He might feel satisfied but he knew that it wasn't enough. It was meaningless, cold and not what he was longing for at all.

The young man sighed deeply when he walked into the coffee shop and Blaine was carrying around a tablet with drinks and cupcakes. He smiled, bright and toothy as always, and he could swear it grew even wider, stretching his lips impossibly wide when he saw him. He nodded in his direction lightly and Kurt's eyes flickered down quickly, trying to avoid looking into his smooth, golden eyes. He had kind eyes, sparkling and wide and bright with a hint of green in them, changing colour as the day went on. Not that Kurt had stared or maybe he had. He couldn't help it. Blaine was handsome. The typical, dapper, 60's gentleman, like an old Hollywood movie star, probably one of the last men of his kind.  
>Kurt mentally punched himself for being so invested in the way he looked and the way he'd peak over his magazines every now and then to watch him interact with people. Blaine's voice was low and gentle, smooth yet raspy and his laugh was sincere just like the look in his face whenever he thanked someone for a tip.<p>

_'Get it together, Hummel.'_ He mumbled under his breath as he sat down in his usual seat.

It wasn't long until Blaine walked over to him to take his order and Kurt was just about to utter his order when the other man cut in, in a sickenly polite way. Typical.  
>"I take you want the 'usual', Sir?" He asked with a wide grin and god, those teeth. He could easily be in one of those over the top commercials though there wouldn't be the need to photoshop his teeth so they were pearly white.<p>

_'Unfair!'_

"And now you just make me feel old...how old do you think I am?" Kurt asked, his voice a bit snarly and he saw Blaine's eyebrows furrow a bit before he smiled a little more subdued.

"Well... it's hard to tell because you always look kinda grumpy. It gives you crowfeet, did you know that?" The curly haired man asked and Kurt couldn't help the faint smile that appeared on his face.

"Do you think I read those magazines for nothing?" He asked teasingly and shook his head at Blaine playfully with a grin.

"There you go..." Blaine breathed and let out a small laugh.

"Oh... well." Kurt mumbled and looked away again.

"I thought you wanted to know how old I think you are?" The waiter asked and tapped his feet a little, still holding the tablet and a little notebook in his other hand along with a pen.

"I guess... but I'm sure it'll be offending."

"Twenty-one."

"Now you're just flattering me."

"Twenty-nine."

"Wow." Kurt raised his plucked eyebrows at him with a judging look. His 'bitchface', as Rachel and Mercedes had called it.

"Okay, okay..." Blaine chuckled nervously and somehow Kurt found it kinda precious but quickly shoved this thought away again.

"Twenty- ..."

"Twenty-three." Kurt said quickly. "I-I'm twenty-three." He whispered and looked up at the other man for a split second.

Blaine laughed lightly and nodded. "That was my next guess." He smiled and Kurt bit his lip.

"How... - How old are you... Blaine?" He asked.  
>Oh, to hell with it.<br>Blaine was nice. Absolutely polite and quite sweet actually so Kurt had no reason whatsoever not to talk to him, right?

"Twenty-two." He said simply, shifting the tablet so it was more comfortable to carry, the muscles in his arms flexed and Kurt looked absently at the strong biceps moving under nicely tanned, smooth, olive skin. He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes, furrowing his eyebrows.

"So shocking?" The low voice of the younger man woke him from his wandering thoughts and he shook his head frantically.

"No - not at all. I just thought you were... well... older? I don't know. Doesn't matter so... coffee?" He tried to distract Blaine again and he apparently got the hint and grinned, nodding.

"Sure, yes... because that's - why you're here... right. So... one Grande Non-Fat Mocha. I'll be back." Blaine said awkwardly and walked off, turning one last time but quickly getting to the counter again to set down the tablet and give up the order before returning with the hot drink.

"Thanks." Kurt muttered and Blaine whispered a quick "You're welcome."

He walked off, turning halfway on his heels, facing the glasz-eyed man again who looked up a bit confused.

"Twenty-three, huh?"

Kurt nodded weakly and Blaine grinned, walking off.

The young man tried to focus on his magazine again, looking at the models and the way the brand-new spring collections fluttered around their skinny, long bodies, trying desperately to teleport himself into that other world like he always did. Where he could be himself and not just another warm body. A creator rather than a performer and being the one in charge and not the one having to submit anymore. It was his sweet escape from reality, the bills, and the emptiness of his apartment.

And somehow he had to admit that he wanted Blaine to talk to him again. He wondered why he was being so cold to him, snappy. It wasn't him. Sure, he couldn't deny that he was kind of a diva but Blaine had been nothing but nice to him, not at all judging him when he sat there in his tight grey shirt and his dark skinny jeans with knee-high boots and a bowtie tied around his neck and a black wool-cardigan completing his outfit, matching the ones on the cover of his newest issue of 'Vogue'.

Sometimes he wondered what Blaine dressed like. If he wore T-shirts and jeans or button-ups with slim-fitted ones. He wondered what was behind his smile and work-clothes, what kind of music he liked and if he was happy. If he had a lot of friends and if his family was nice and - he knew he should stop being so interested. He couldn't let him fall and especially not like that.  
>Feelings made things uncomfortable, weird, tainting relationships like ink on plain, white paper when Kurt's pen would leak again, leaving dark smears of black on his sketches, making him sigh with annoyance and rumple the paper.<br>He had learned those things the hard way and he wasn't exactly eager to let them happen again.

It was stupid anyway. It wasn't like he knew if Blaine was even interested, at least not in that way. Maybe he wasn't even gay, or bi, or attracted to him. Maybe he was just being his charming, kind self and he didn't even realize he was flirting or making his chest flutter with the way he looked at him.

Kurt nibbled on the inside of his cheek and flicked to the next side, closing his eyes for a second when his mind drifted off to his other life again.

His perfect life in which he would just ask Blaine to sit with him, talk to him, just getting to know him but he couldn't let himself. It wasn't like the other man would want him anyways Especially not when he learned more about him. That there was more to his soft features and innocent voice. His tired, blue eyes and his 'grumpy' expression.

No. Blaine would never know because Kurt wouldn't let him. He would do what he did best. What he had been doing all his life. He'd close up and hide in the comfort of sarcasm, letting his walls build up higher and blocking him. Trying to protect himself because he had failed at it before and Kurt knew he needed to make this right to be safe and strong.  
>And most importantly he had to make sure that Blaine would be safe as well.<p> 


End file.
